Comfort Zone (Connor x Reader)

Fifty-Two

Leaning once more, the android pressed a kiss to your throat, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. Hands flat on the tabletop, he tried to pull out and away, but your legs were locked around his waist. "... Detective...?" he questioned, all his dominance giving way to his sweeter side. "Is something wrong?"

Your mouth worked, face not entirely cooled off. "... when you pull out there's gonna be a mess. How are we gonna clean it?"

Good point. His dark eyes darted around, scanning the interior of the building and making calculations. The cameras were disabled only in that room; he'd have to venture out to retrieve supplies.

Watching his yellow LED for a moment, you reached and turned his head to face you again. "Is there a spare shirt I can change into?"

There were plenty of clothes for multiple reasons. "Of course. Just tell me what.... your..... pref...er..ences...... are.........."

Your top had come off, held out for him to use for the time being, which left you in just your bra... and showed the skin graft that covered nearly all of your upper right arm. "Use this first, then go snag me another shirt, please." The shirt was taken but no effort made to do anything else. "...... Connor. Come on. Get rid of that screensaver, honey."

It was like you'd tased him: the RK800 shook himself hard for a mere moment, eyes wide, before his apologetic smile appeared. "Forgive me. I... I know I'd seen it before, but your scar is fascinating."

"Mm, yes, discolored skin and a constant reminder. Riveting." The sarcasm would have gone on had your Roomba not slowly pulled out of you, forcing a drawn-out moan from your throat as you were left empty.

You were taken care of first before himself, then the ruined top situated under you just in case there was further leakage. With warm cheeks Connor fixed himself again, flashing his crooked smile. "Give me one minute and eighteen seconds," he murmured, leaving the room once he was presentable again.

Left mostly naked on the interrogation room table, you sat up and actually counted the seconds away. What else were you supposed to do? At precisely 78 seconds the door opened again, the android stepping in with some sanitizing products and another shirt over one shoulder. "I kept count. You're right on time, of course," you added, chuckling.

"Actually, I waited outside the door for four seconds." Helping you onto your feet, Connor became the crutch until your legs could hold you upright. Head close to yours while he supported you, he whispered, "How did I do? Oscar-worthy?"

With a snort and subsequent giggle, you shook your head. "I'm pretty sure they don't hand out Oscars for sex scenes."

"...... then how did I do?"

Mostly able to stand on your own, you reached and tugged the RK800 down into a kiss, immediately returned. "Well, I wanna leave and go back to the apartment so you can fuck me against every wall. So what does that tell you?"

Connor's expression was a beautiful mix of shock and embarrassment, with a fresh layer of need on top. Rendered silent, he waited for you to start dressing before he sanitized the table. Heavily.

Once he was finished, he found you standing in an unusual position: mostly with your legs further apart than necessary. Glancing over your shoulder, you sighed. "Congrats. Walking fucking hurts."

"You played with fire. I warned you about the consequences. You told me to burn you." There was a mischievous glint in Connor's eyes, reciting word for word what you'd told him during his interrogation. "Let your body heal before we begin counting the walls in the apartment," he added, throwing a wink in for flavor.